Surprising Rice
by maliciouspixie5
Summary: Sherlock leaves disgusting things in the fridge and never cleans up after himself. John plans to teach him a lesson he will never forget with a hot and steamy dish of Surprising Rice.


For Dixiebell (Three Patch Podcast) here's to road trips with the kids. This is what you get from listening to back to back Cabin Pressure episodes to drown out the kids in the back seat and brainstorming TPP Sexisodes. (If you haven't listened to TPP and like your pod casts wild and sexy start with Sexpisode 2 and Kinktober. They are all amazing – but adults only. The ladies at TPP are witty, wild, informative, and NEVER boring.

This has not been brit picked or beta'd. Sorry I'm too impatient to deal with that today.

**Arthur: Aha, my signature dish. Behold! Surprising Rice.**

**Douglas: Good lord!**

**Martin: What are **_**those**_** bits?**

**Arthur: Ah, you see, Skipper, if you don't mind me saying so, that question is entirely against the spirit of Surprising Rice.**

**Surprising Rice**

John looked up from the stove when he heard the lock turn and the door open. Sherlock swept into the flat in his usual manner, removing his scarf and coat and throwing them haphazardly over John's chair for him to remove later if he wanted to sit and watch telly. Oh the life of service to Sherlock Holmes he thought, I just need a butler's uniform.

He shook his head in frustration that Sherlock would ever change and added a dash more salt to the rice then gave it one quick stir. He pulled two plates from the cupboard and quickly divided the contents into the plates which he then placed on the table. "Case over?" He asked casually.

"Yes, brother in law, inheritance issues, boring," He stopped and breathed in the savory aroma of the food and his stomach growled in need, walking toward the kitchen he asked, "What are you cooking?"

"Supper, hungry?" John asked.

Ignoring the inquiry he pulled his chair out and waited for John to pour his tea. He picked up his cup and observed the dish before him, never picking up his fork.

"Eat Sherlock," John said in a firm voice. Sherlock knew he needed fuel for his transport but it was ever so much fun to make John work for it. "Eat, it's been three days since you last ate that piece of toast I forced on you."

He looked at John sitting across from him, "Should I call you Mummy John, you are beginning to sound like my mother." John just rolled his eyes. "Eat or pass out it the street, it's your choice."

"Yes mummy," was the reply. He rearranged his plate and utensils stalling for time. With a frustrated snort came from John he was satisfied that his token protest was enough. He turned his plate one more fraction and when everything was to his satisfaction he picked up his fork and took a mouthful. He shut his eyes and chewed, rolled the masticated rice and bits across his taste buds, examining the rice. Steamy and hot, not overcooked, bite just so. The flavor, yes a pork background, touch of soy. The vegetables cooked perfect, maybe a dash more salt.

The meat however had him raising an eyebrow. Different textures, opening his eyes he looked down and saw a perfectly shaped square of white meat, stabbing it with his fork he ferried it to his mouth. Chewy, could have been a bit more tinder, somewhat dry, pork chop maybe? He chose a bit of meat that was darker on the next fork full. It was greasier, a bit stringy texture, meat from near a bone. The next was marbled, moist, jowl? He opened his eyes and looked across the table at John.

John wasn't eating. Odd, he was observing him eat the rice. Was he waiting on a compliment? He searched his catalogue for acceptable compliments. "Very good meal John. Is this a family recipe?"

"Thank you but no Sherlock, it is not." John never lifted his fork, why was he still observing him, what was he waiting for? Another complement, was the other one not good? He pulled from his catalogue again. "What is it, a recipe of Harry's?"

"No, it's something I like to call Surprising Rice." John said but still did not pick up his fork to eat. He however did take a sip of his tea, his eyes never leaving Sherlock as he ate.

"Surprising rice? How can rice be surprising?" He asked arching an eyebrow.

"In many, many ways," John said with a small secretive smile and not looking him in the eyes. Again he did not add to the conversation or pick up his fork. It was the rice, something in the rice. A mystery! He looked down, it was the normal long grain rice, which John kept stocked in the pantry as a staple. The only veg in the concoction was carrots and onion; their textures were normal as well as the taste. So it was the meat. It had to be something about the meat.

He used the fork to pull pieces of meat to the side of the plate for observation. A glance toward John showed that his smile was wider now. Ah, the correct assumption. Looking down at the meats collected on the side of the plate he could see three, maybe four different cuts. He picked up the forth sample of meat and placed it in his mouth, firm texture, heart? John usually did not go to the expense of buying fancy cuts of meat buying only the cheapest because of his limited budget so why would he now? Special occasion? He pondered this, fork still perched in his raised hand, silent and still, lost in thought. John cleared his throat, ahh, he is tired of the waiting, Sherlock thought.

"Ever hear of a meat called Long Pork?"

"Long Pork?" He put down the fork and accessed the files in his memory palace. Pork, cuts of meat, none listed as long. He closed that file as a wasted route. Oh! Interesting, a file on 17th century sailors and the natives of the islands of the Lesser Antilles. The natives acquired a long-standing reputation as cannibals and the word Long Pork came about because cannibals attested that human meat tastes like pork. That's it! Looking up at John with a raised eyebrow he said, "I don't know if I'm to be proud of you for getting one over on me or horrified that I've now become a cannibal." He swallowed heavily and a green sheen slowly crept across his countenance. "Am I eating human flesh John?"

John snorted. "Wondered how long it would take for you to get it. I thought since this morning I had a bit of humanity with my morning tea I would let you share the joy of it for supper." John did not look happy.

"I used your jam jar as storage for body fat." He tried to sound contrite but John wasn't buying it.

"A jam jar?" His eyebrows were raised and he had that 'I'm about to have a proper strop' look. "Not one jar, three jars Sherlock, three jars full of various types of body fat. The marmalade I bought earlier this week!" John slammed his tea glass down sloshing the contents on the table. "I have asked you countless times, countless times, to only use the bottom of the fridge for your experiments! They were in the door trays! Not labeled, I had fat on toast!"

"Not exactly a proper meal. How did it taste?" He leaned forward interested which exasperated John even more.

"Not a time to joke!" John almost yelled and for a moment Sherlock wondered if he was going to come out of this with bruises. "But anyway, I didn't eat it; the first spoonful was a giveaway that it wasn't my jam."

"John, did I just eat one of Molly's bodies?"

"No Sherlock, I got the different cuts from Mrs. Hudson."

"Good, that's good. I will use only the bottom of the fridge from now on."

"That is advisable, next time I find a dripping head in there contaminating everything you will wake up beside it."


End file.
